


i was staring at the sun, trying to burn it from my eyes

by Lady Knight (marshmallownose)



Series: The Bellis Chronicles [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons and Dragons, F/F, F/M, Fantasy setting, Sapphic, Unrequited Love, based off a D&D campaign, medieval setting, no comfort, she loves her but she loves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25604257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallownose/pseuds/Lady%20Knight
Summary: On the day of her brother’s wedding, Olwen wishes it could be her in his place.
Relationships: Myrde Lark/Noreen Mahrald, Olwen Lark/Noreen Mahrald, Original Character/Original Character
Series: The Bellis Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896874
Kudos: 4





	i was staring at the sun, trying to burn it from my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This work is based off my D&D character, Olwen Lark (a bard), and her backstory. She is from a good sized family, and when her brother’s betrothed came to town, it was love at first sight. Unfortunately, Noreen isn’t too observant or keen (rhyme!)
> 
> There’s more sadness after the fact, but all in all, besides her estranged twin and this unrequited love, Olwen’s got a pretty good life.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> PS: I wrote this really fast just as an exercise and decided to post it on a whim. So there’s been no editing or spelling/grammar checks....so take it with a grain of salt lol

Wildflowers and pale blue-and-white ribbons decorated every inch of The Prydwen, all the tables cleared away to make room for the ceremony. Everyone had worn their best clothes, and Noreen’s father had dressed his daughter in the most elegant furs he had, while Myrde wore his father’s finest blue tunic.

The wedding was the most lovely thing Olwen had ever seen. She hated it.

It was a small gathering—out of the fifty or so people who lived in Fyrinn, only about ten were in attendance, not including family—and everyone was seated in the Lark family’s inn and tavern, watching Myrde Lark and Noreen Mahrald be bound together in the rite of hand-fasting.

Her brother looked as handsome as ever, his light brown hair swept out of his eyes and his beard well-kept.

Noreen, though, was radiant. Her dark skin contrasted the stark white of the the fox fur she wore over her shoulders and the warm red dress that clad her body. Blue eyes glittered as they looked deeply into Myrde’s hazel gaze. Yes, she was beautiful. But, most importantly, she was happy. _So, so happy._

So what right did Olwen have to feel the way she did? The bitter jealousy and yearning for something that she could never have—a life with that woman.

She tried to push the feeling away when she watched them kiss, and turned her head away to look at the empty chair beside her. The chair they’d kept open in case _he_ decided to return for his brother’s happiest day. Of course he didn’t come. He wasn’t there when she needed him; he never was.

She felt a hand squeeze hers, and Olwen looked over at Gwyndolena, her twelveyear old sister smiling at her sadly. It was only then that Olwen noticed the ceremony had ended and they were meant to be clapping.

Noreen’s eyes scanned the crowd, locking on Olwen, and her eyes lit up with excitement. She raised the hand she had clasped with Myrde as if to say _I can’t believe it!_ and Olwen smiled weakly and nodded.

_ Neither can I. _

* * *

There was a party that ensued, which far more of their neighbors attended. A night of revelry that Olwen normally would relish in, picking the crowd and flirting with any man that moved just to possibly make a few copper pieces. Even if she’d been in any mood for it, most of the men in Fyrinn had wised up to her tricks and wiles. It was probably for the best anyway.

She sipped her drink, wishing it was something stronger—perhaps poison. What was wrong with her? Her brother had found a woman he loved more than the earth loved the sun, and she loved him all the same. Olwen should be up on the stage with her mother, playing song after song for the couple. Yet she stood against the wall in a dim corner, the moon shadowed without the sun turned to look her way.

“‘Wen?” A soft voice roused Olwen from her own mind, and she turned her head to the side. Noreen leaned against the wall beside her, her dark hair piled up on top of her head in an intricate mess of braids. The fox fur had long since been discarded and the bride’s eyes were alive in the candlelight. “Aren’t you going to dance?”

Olwen opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue felt heavy and dry. She took a quick sip of the mead in her hand and tried again. “Perhaps in a little bit,” she rasped, trying to keep her eyes from wandering. “You are dazzling tonight. My brother is lucky to have you.”

Noreen ducked her head shyly. “And I him,” she replied. She took Olwen’s hand and held it close to her heart. “And you, too. We’re sisters now; isn’t it wonderful?”

“Indeed,” Olwen said, trying not to cry. “I am so happy to be here with you on your wedding day, sister.” She almost chokes on the word, but managed to force it out.

Noreen leaned closer, and Olwen could only just smell the faintest hint of spiced wine on her sister-in-law’s breath. “Won’t you sing for our first dance?” she asked, voice smooth and soft, and how was it that Olwen had held the hearts of so many men in that room but could never manage to touch the heart of the only one she’d ever truly wanted?

_No,_ she wanted to say. _I can’t._

“Of course,” she whispered instead, feeling her traitorous heart swell at the adoring expression on Noreen’s face directed at her. _It will never mean what you want it to mean._

“Thank you. It means more to me than I can express,” she said, squeezing Olwen’s hand just once before letting it go. “I’ll tell Myrde.”

Numbly, Olwen retrieved her lyre and made her way onto the stage. Calling on every god there was for the blessing, she forced herself to smile warmly at the crowd as they spread to make room for the newly weds.

“A song for my kin,” she said, plucking the strings on the small harp. “May your years be many and your happiness always plentiful.”

Olwen began to sing a soft, lilting melody that filled the inn, and the lovers twirled together like the earth spinning around the sun.

And there Olwen stood, the moon, merely reflecting back the light of her radiant sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Also the “he” in the empty seat is her estranged twin. He actually pops up in the campaign as an antagonist (very tense dynamic for them!)


End file.
